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LC Oct 2014
Sometimes I find myself,
Sat in the chair beside the bed,
Waiting for the time we can share,

I think of you sleeping,
Wonder what goes through your mind,
Wishing for a time I could be there,

Sometimes I find myself,
Imagining how it would feel,
To gently stroke your hair,

I think of you sleeping,
Wishing I was there,
Wishing for the time our sleep we will share.

~LC~
cmy Apr 2013
I hope the rain comes
In the slumbering of night
Knocking my window
A Sep 2014
"is it because im ugly?"

"Dont you ever say that
He replied
you have never seen yourself
Now I,
I have seen you, all of you

I will not allow you to call yourself that until you have woken up to your sleeping body, in your most vulnerable possition.

Not until you have watched yourself
sit on the corner of your bed and get lost in your favorite book.

Not until you have watched tears fall from your eyes watching your favorite movie.

Not until you see your face angry when you dont get your way

Not until you can look into your own eyes and see the true happiness you get when a strager compliments you"

its not fair to me, to discourage something I have become so well accustomed to
Moral to the story, your not ugly. You cannot think you are either, youve only seen a mirrored image of yourself
Kalil Sep 2014
Sleep
Is that you I see?
Why do you tempt me
With your beauty

Rest
Why do you massage my shoulders
Your touch soothes me
at the worst possible time

Relax
Your sweet words dance
Around my heavy head
Why are you lulling me into a

Deep

Deep

Slee-

WAKE UP

Class is still in session
This poem is dedicated to all the people who pull all-nighters for the sake of a good grade. Cheers!
Leah Rae Sep 2014
Six girls.
Four bunk beds.
Freshman year.
College.
We are all nervous.
Elbows and knees. Awkward.
Like being packed into a cattle car.
Rewind 6 years.
Homeless, living in the back of a minivan.
Three children, and our mother.

Sleeping together in a single motel bed
Nervous for morning.

Elbows and knees.
I am built for building.
Made to create.
Hands like carpenters, I make a home out of anywhere I go.
Learned to carry it on my back.
To take things with me.

And now, I am almost nineteen year old and I have been living out of boxes for the past two months.

Out of containers filled with my own clothing.
I feel like I can’t find stillness.
Or have silence.

I haven’t been alone in two months.
I am sleeping with the lights on.
They call this temporary housing,
For all the students who applied late.
Like me.

But I didn't think I would be here.
But I was raised poor,
remember the minivan,
so a free college education tasted like..
Like you’re starving, and your mom’s food stamps haven’t came in yet, and you’re at the grocery store,
and its Saturday,

and they’re handing out free samples.

And I feel lucky.
And I feel blessed.
And I feel grateful.
And I feel slighted.
And I feel frustrated.
And I feel tired.
And I feel angry.

Angry that I am this easy to tear down.
That I am ticker tape,
salvage yard,
construction zone.
That the four walls of the home I've tried to build inside of myself can be so easily burned down.

Can be destroyed.
A fire alarm in my chest, and a flooded basement.
That I can’t find peace in the only home I've ever had.

There are motel signs.
Blinking,
three am,
and my mother’s credit card is being declined.
And my little sister won’t stop crying.

And we are in a homeless shelter when I’m 6.

And we’re in another when I’m 8.

And another when I’m 13.

I’m 19 in a few months,
And this dorm feels like another one.

And I’m convinced they build these places, on purpose.
Temporarily temporary.

To show us how temporary we all are.
That we can’t take anything with us.

That I can't take anything with me.

Where ever it is that I am going.
Where ever it is that I might end up.
I’m just praying..

Praying there is a warm bed to sleep in when I get there.
KAT COLE Sep 2014
Staring at every corner of your face.
Your eyelids shut so tightly.
The edges of your lips so still.
I crave to know what's in that brain.
You rest so still, as if you have never known of any living hell.
As if you've never heard of the battle.
The war partaking so constantly inside of me.
I am so envious of your nights.
My home is sleepless.
As far from your familiarity as possible.
I had a dream once
Circular in reason
Teasing me
Bruised and beaten
Sleeping
I wandered angelic
Dorothy and Alice
Through nightmare geographies
Landscapes cruel, beautiful
And strange
Talking crows
Enveloped my eyes
A crown of pearlescent feathers
Obscuring my vision and yet
I saw
A waterfall of tears
A guru on a lotus
He whispered
Whiskey breath and sleepy eyed
A hep cat hipster in hemp cap
Gin and tonic gripped
Like a life preserver
“All you need is love”
And I wandered
Lost
Eleanor Rigby Aug 2014
Darling darling darling!
I scream at your ear
Wake up and love me
Or at least
See me
For who I am
For who I'm not
Just see me
Anyway.

Darling darling darling!
I scream for hours
But you're still sleeping
And probably dreaming
Of her whisper.

F.Z.N
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